Ruin Unto Gondolin
by jessewrites
Summary: The tale of the fall of Gondolin, told as a firsthand account by one dear to Ecthelion of the Fountain and Glorfindel of the Golden Flower


Title: Ruin unto d

Author: Jesse

Rating: PG

Warning: mild violence

Disclaimer: not mine, blah…

Summary: The tale of the fall of Gondolin, told as a firsthand account by one dear to Ecthelion of the Fountain and Glorfindel of the Golden Flower

I was born in the fair city of Turgon, in Gondolin, in the year preceding the long peace. I was nearing my 215th winter when my lord Ecthelion followed my king to the Nirnaeth Arnoediad. I stood beside Ecthelion when we watched our High King fall and I followed my lord as we guarded one of King Turgon's flanks; Glorfindel, _gwador_ to my lord, guarded the other.

I was captain of the forces of the Fountain, second to my lord Ecthelion, despite my age, for Ecthelion trained me himself. I was called Carnëur by my lord for the fire in my temperament, though from any but Ecthelion I preferred the name given to me by my parents, Maltaelen, which meant 'golden stars.'

It was 35 years after the Nirnaeth Arnoediad that ruin came to Gondolin in the form of Maeglin, the king's nephew. He betrayed us and the city fell, though the Lady Idril was far-sighted and prepared a way out. Ecthelion, and therefore I, was one of the few trusted elves who were given charge of the lady's secret. It was the job of the House of the Fountain to dig that path, to make it and to learn it. Ecthelion and Glorfindel too felt in their hearts the stirring if malice directed at our city, and were eager to help Idril ensure the survival of our people.

It is impossible to tell a tale of Ecthelion without mention in great measure of Glorfindel, Lord of the Golden Flower, and brother to my lord in all ways but blood. He was one of our finest, one of the king's captains, alongside Ecthelion. It was a great loss for the Eldar when he fell, though I know it to be fate that he and Ecthelion were lost on the same day, for neither would have willingly gone on without the other. We the Fountain held the Great Gates, for though the Hammer of Wrath was the largest and most valiant, we of the Fountain were the most loyal, and would die to an elf should the need arise, and too, led by fiercely loyal Glorfindel, the Golden Flower would fight in the king's defense until none stood.

Glorfindel and my lord were evenly matched, in temperament; Glorfindel was slow to wrath, but once roused was terrible and unrelenting in his rage. Ecthelion was quick to anger and just as quick to forgive, unless the betrayal was deep, and his forgiveness cooled Glorfindel's rage, and Glorfindel's sense eased Ecthelion's quick-fire temper. I was more like my lord in temperament than most thought was wise, since I inflamed him more with my agreement, where others might steady so volatile a lord. Glorfindel's second, an elf I was well acquainted with, given our statuses and the closeness of our commanders, was a steady presence of rock-solid sense, and tempered me where Glorfindel steadied Ecthelion. Too, Durlhoth and I straightened the mess when Glorfindel and Ecthelion, who when together at parties could not resist the urge to act like elflings, played a prank that left parties unhappy, which was rarer than one might think, because between the two of them, they could charm almost any in Gondolin, though Maeglin disliked them intensely, for he bore the brunt of their jokes too often.

But I grow sidetracked. You wished to hear of the fall of my home. On that fell day, we were celebrating the Tarnin Austa, the gates of summer, as a whole city. We had held our silence from the moon's zenith until Arien rose, and as she ascended above the Encircling Mountains, a glow to the north turned the snow capped peaks blood red over Tumladen. At first my people celebrated, thinking it just another part of the festivities, but riders bore down on us with dire news. The forces of Morgoth, Lord of the Dark, came upon us, led by the lord of the fire demons, Gothmog, King of Balrogs. I stood with my lord and my king and with Tuor and the lady Idril when the messengers brought the news, though we knew it not at the time, of our ruin. Runners were sent about the city, calling the lords of the houses to the king's side. Tuor spoke strongly the words of the Valar Ulmo, Lord of the Deep, whose message Tuor had borne to Gondolin years past.

"Sally forth, my lord," said he. "The hosts of Melkor cannot face the valor of your people and would be routed on the plain. Even Gothmog and Sauron himself could not face the fury of your subjects."

"He speaks true, milord," said Glorfindel the Fair, "In the open plain, we could fight without hindrance of innocents and closed spaces. They could not hem us in."

But Salgant, traitor and coward, refuted this. "Why ignore our greatest strength? It will take more than Gothmog to bear down out gates and break our wall."

Maeglin, sister-son to the king, spoke words of ruin that bore the seeming of sound advice. "Victory would be ours should we sally forth, my Liege, but the losses would be terrible and it would leave our city, so hard-built and dear, undefended. We could win here in the city as well, and would not risk destruction of that which we hold dear."

And so Turgon would not strike out, but instead waited for the first blow to fall, and so ruin came to my people. The king sent Glorfindel and his people to the marketplace, to cover the innocents cowering there. Ecthelion clasped Glorfindel's arm and spoke thusly: "Valar guide your blade, _gwador_, and Elbereth bring you safely through this conflict."

"And you," Glorfindel answered. "And should Mandos deem it my time, know that my _fea_ will await yours in his halls, that we may be together again."

"Aye," Ecthelion answered, and they parted.

Durlhoth and I clasped forearms and followed our lords, for after their great speeches, our words would only cheapen the solemnity of our parting. We both knew that their words applied to us as well; for he was one of the few I counted _gwador_.

Turgon ordered us to stand in reserve in the cities center, surrounded by the fountains my lord loved so dear, the great towers of water that gave our house its name. We waited in stillness, listening desperately for some sound of how the battle fared, but we need not have strained. The city rung with a knell as if we stood inside a mighty bell when the Great Gate was struck. My lord closed his eyes and stood still. He spoke to me then, my beloved lord, in what I knew in my heart would be the last of our true conversations. The time for orders would come later, but for a last time he spoke to me as his confidant. "I fear the king made a grievous choice, Carnëur, my fiery one. We should have ridden forth and face them on the plain. Great ill will come from this."

"You do not stand alone, my lord," I answered.

Ecthelion clasped my shoulder once. "_Narorë_," he said with the affection that had carried me through many years of bruising training. It meant simply 'fire-heart' and it was a variation of my nickname he had never used before, and never would again. "Know that you are dear to me, that I count you close as kin. The Fountain will look to you if I fall. Swear to me you will look to them and heed not my fate."

"My lord!"

"Maltaelen, swear it!"

He so rarely used my given name that his sharp demand was chilling. He truly wanted my pledge, for he knew he would not live to see the moon rise. "I swear it, Lord, on the oath of fealty I swore to you during the Long Peace, when all hoped I would never have to honour my pledge. I have not broken it yet, and will not do so now. You have my word, Ecthelion."

Ecthelion nodded and we fell silent again. When the runner came to tell us the gate had been breached, Rog and teh Hammer of Wrath had fallen at the north gate, and Turgon wanted us to hold back Gothmog at the west-gate, I touched his mail-clad shoulder. "It has been my honour, my lord."

My lord nodded to me, eyes dark. "And mine, Carnëur." And then battle was upon us and we had no chance to speak again for a long while. Tuor and his house, the Wing, stood beside us at that great stand, and it was Tuor himself who wounded the fell worm that wreaked so much havoc among my people and drove it from the city. A balrog took its place as chief enemy in that part of the fighting and my lord stood to face it.

Their fight was short, though fierce, and unrivaled by any up to that point, for my lord was the first of the children of Iluvatar to slay one of the fire-demons. Ecthelion smote the demon in the chest, and though singed was not burned, until in its death-throes, the beast lashed out in final defiance and lashed my lord's shield arm with its whip of fire. Leaning heavily on me and Tuor for the dizziness that came with great pain, my lord and Tuor called for the reformation of our ranks and an orderly retreat back to the King's Square.

There we found the king, Galdor, and Egalmoth, all pressed back by the great flood of our foes. Glorfindel and his house staggered in late, with the tidings that Salgant had turned craven and his house had abandoned him. The House of the Harp presently fought for the Market Square, leaving the Golden Flower free to return to the king.

We set up what barricades could be made and prepared to make our final stand. But our barriers could not hold back the tide and Gothmog burst into the square.

Tuor met him bravely, but the man, for he was only a man no matter that his bearing and wisdom, his heart made him one of us, his body was still that of a mortal man, was thrown down by Melkor's terrible lieutenant.

Ecthelion squeezed my shoulder and in that moment I knew. I swallowed my words and let him go. He said for my ears alone, "Fare thee well, _gwador_." He said nothing even to Glorfindel, for they had already had their goodbyes.

Then my Lord Ecthelion, bright captain of Turgon's hosts, our bravest and best, and the elf I was proud to call my lord stepped into the fires of Gothmog and called him craven.

The Balrog-King raged at my lord, in his black tongue and in our language, called him cruel names that I will not echo, and said, "Death has taken you already, Dimmed Star, and you should lie down and let it take you."

Ecthelion laughed and raised his blade one handed, forgoing his shield. "Do you wish to bandy words, fell-beast, or will your master give you praise for boring me?"

Gothmog struck at Ecthelion, but Ecthelion was faster, and leapt out of the way. They fenced thus, crossing blades in a duel that has not been matched in my eyes by any of the great heroes, but eventually Gothmog's size won out over my exhausted lord and the balrog batted away the great blade of the Fountain. Morgoth's lieutenant gave a shout of triumph, but in that moment my lord lunged at the fire-beast and buried the spike on his helmet in Gothmog's chest, allowing the great force of his leap to bear them both backwards into the greatest of the fountains of the king. The waters of the fountain steamed and clouded the square and the hosts of Morgoth cried aloud at the death of their captain, but too cried out Turgon's people in grief for Ecthelion's loss.

Thus died Ecthelion, Lord of the House of the Fountain, but my story does not end here. We had a brief respite from our foes as they quailed in heart for the death of their great captain. Great stories are told, and by tellers far better than I of our king's words at the foot of his tower, and his ascent. Tuor, knowing further battle was useless, led out people out his the secret way of Idril Celebrindal.

There was dissent among us as to which exit we should take. Tuor spoke for the Crsithorn and I agreed wholeheartedly. What remnants of the House of the Fountain there were would follow Tuor and Idril until there was no need, or none stood. Glorfindel was of a like mind, though the Golden Flower was more diminished even than we.

It would be years later that I would learn the fate of those who left us there and I grieve for them now, though then I only had care for what lay ahead of our small, ragged band.

Glorfindel touched my arm and told me, "Dorlhoth fell covering my back. Will you stand at my side as you did so often for Ecthelion and he did for me?"

"Aye, lord," I replied, "For them, we will stand together and make sure that they died not in vain."

"As you say it, so shall it be. There's none living I trust more with my back than you." Glorfindel and I, with the battered remnants of our houses took the rear of the party, to guard against pursuers.

We were in the heart of Cirith Thoronath when orcs came upon our rear and Glorfindel and I, with our people beside us, fought boldly, for no longer had we anything to lose. But even then would our valour have been in vain, were it not for Glorfindel's courage, for a blarog came from the ranks. Glorindel's battle with the balrog was beautiful in its skill and even the orcs stood transfixed by the spectacle.

Glorfindel struck the monster's chest, but did not make enough of a strike to kill the beast and its clawed hands wrapped in his hair. It would have been the end, but for his courage. He faced that fell beast without flinching and when his death was immanent, he threw himself into its embrace, knocking himself and his foe into the depths of the cleft.

And so I stood by and watched a second of our greatest warriors fall to balrogs and could do nothing but watch, and remember.

Tales tell of how Thorondor and his people drove the orcs away and bore up Glorfindel's body and how we laid him to rest under a cairn where from there on unto the breaking of the world golden flowers grew about his grave. Tales tell of how Idril and Tuor led us out of those passes and we came to the mouths of the Sirion and made our home again. I cannot tell of those few agonizing weeks, for when the threat was gone, I allowed my grief to take me, and I remember little.

Thus came ruin unto Gondolin and death to its captains.


End file.
